UC-NRLF 


GIFT  OF 


THE  JOYOUS  MIRACLE 


THE 

JOYOUS  MIRACLE 


BY 


FRANK  NORRIS 


A 


.1 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
MCMVI 


Copyright,   1898,  by 
THE  S.  S.  McCujRE  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1906,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

Published,  October,  1906 

All  rights  reserved, 

including  that  of  translation  into  foreign  languages 
including  the  Scandinavian 


C>< 


DESIGNED     AND     PRINTKD     BY     THE 
UNIVERSITY  PRKSS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


THE  JOYOUS  MIRACLE 


333712 


THE 

JOYOUS  MIRACLE 
MERVIUS  HAD  COME 

to  old  Jerome's  stone- 
built  farmhouse,  across 
the  huge  meadow  where 
some  half-dozen  of  the 
neighboring  villagers 
pastured  their  stock  in 
common.  Old  Jerome 
had  received  a  certain 
letter,  which  was  a  copy 
of  another  letter,  which 
in  turn  was  a  copy  of 
another  letter,  and  so  on 


THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 

and  so  on,  nobody  could  tell 
how  far.  Mervius  would  copy 
this  letter  and  take  it  back  to 
his  village,  where  it  would  be 
copied  again  and  again  and 
yet  again,  and  copies  would 
be  made  of  these  copies,  till 
the  whole  countryside  would 
know  the  contents  of  that 
letter  pretty  well  by  heart.  It 
was  in  this  way,  indeed,  that 
these  people  made  their  lit 
erature.  They  would  hand 
down  the  precious  documents 
to  their  children,  and  that 
letter's  contents  would  be 
come  folk-lore,  become  so 
well  known  that  it  would  be 
repeated  orally.  It  would  be 

hi 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

a  legend,  a  mythos ;  perhaps 
by  and  by,  after  a  long  time, 
it  might  gain  credence  and 
become  even  history. 

But  in  that  particular  part 
of  the  country  this  famous 
letter  was  doubly  important, 
because  it  had  been  written 
by  a  man  whom  some  of 
the  peasants  and  laborers  and 
small  farmers  knew.  ' '  I  knew 
him,"  said  old  Jerome,  when 
Mervius  had  come  in  and  the 
two  had  sat  down  on  either 
side  of  the  oak  table  in  the 
brick-paved  kitchen.  Mer 
vius —  he  was  past  seventy 
himself — slipped  off  his  huge 
wooden  sabots  and  let  his  feet 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

rest  on  the  warm  bricks  near 
the  fireplace,  for  the  meadow 
grass  had  been  cold. 

"Yes,  I  knew  him,"  said 
Jerome.  "  He  took  the  name 
of  Peter  afterwards.  He  was 
a  fisherman,  and  used  to  seine 
fish  over  in  the  big  lake  where 
the  vineyards  are  .  He  used  to 
come  here  twice  a  week  and 
sell  me  fish.  He  was  a  good 
fisherman.  Then  the  carpen 
ter's  son  set  the  whole  country 
by  the  ears,  and  he  went  away 
with  him.  I  missed  his  fish. 
Mondays  and  Wednesdays  he 
came,  and  his  fish  were  always 
fresh.  They  don't  get  such 
fish  nowadays." 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

"Til  take  the  letter  you 
have,"  said  Mervius,  "the 
copy,  that  is  —  and  my  wife 
will  transcribe  it;  I  —  I  am 
too  old,  and  my  eyes  are  bad. 
This  carpenter's  son  now  — 
as  you  say,  he  set  the  people 
by  the  ears.  It  is  a  strange 
story." 

Old  Jerome  put  his  chin  in 
the  air.  "He  was  the  son 
of  a  carpenter,  nothing  else. 
We  all  knew  his  people ;  you 
did,  and  I.  His  father  built 
the  bin  where  I  store  my  corn, 
and  some  stalls  in  my  brother's 
barn  in  the  next  village.  The 
son  was  a  dreamer ;  any  one 
could  have  told  he  would 

[5] 


THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 

have  perished  in  the  end .  The 
people  were  tired  of  him,  a 
mild  lunatic.  That  was  all." 
Mervius  did  not  answer 
directly.  "I  have  read  this 
letter,"  he  said,  "this  fisher 
man's  letter.  The  man  who 
looks  after  my  sheep  lent  me 
a  copy .  Peter  was  not  always 
with  the  man,  the  carpenter's 
son.  One  thing  he  has  left 
out  —  one  thing  that  I  saw." 

' '  That  you  saw ! "  exclaimed 
old  Jerome. 

Mervius  nodded. 
"  I  saw  this  man  once." 
"  The  carpenter's  son?" 
"  Yes,  once,  and  I  saw  him 
smile.     You  notice  this  letter 


THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 

never  makes  record  of  him 
smiling." 

" I  know." 

"  I  saw  him  smile." 

66  As  how?" 

Mervius  wrapped  his  lean, 
old  arms  under  the  folds  of  his 
blouse,  and  resting  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  looked  into  the 
fire.  Jerome's  crow  paced 
gravely  in  at  the  door  and 
perched  on  his  master's  knee. 
Jerome  fed  him  bits  of  cheese 
dipped  in  wine. 

66  It  was  a  long  time  ago," 
said  Mervius;  "  I  was  a  lad. 
I  remember  I  and  my  cousin 
Joanna  —  she  was  a  little  girl 
of  seven  then  —  used  to  run 


7] 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

out  to  the  cow  stables  early 
of  the  cold  mornings  and 
stand  in  the  fodder  on  the 
floor  of  the  stalls  to  warm  our 
feet.  I  had  heard  my  father 
tell  of  this  man,  this  carpen 
ter's  son.  Did  you  ever 
hear,"  he  added,  turning  to 
old  Jerome,  "did  you  ever 
hear  —  when  you  were  a  boy 
—  hear  the  older  people  speak 
of  the  < White  Night'?  At 
midnight  it  grew  suddenly 
light,  as  though  the  sun  had 
risen  out  of  season.  In  fact 
there  was  a  sun,  or  star  — 
something.  The  chickens  all 
came  down  from  their  roosts, 
the  oxen  lowed,  the  cocks 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 


crew,  as  though  at  daybreak. 
It  was  light  for  hours.  Then 
towards  four  o'clock  the  light 
faded  again.  It  happened  in 
midwinter.  Yes,  they  called 
it  the  <  White  Night.'  It  was 
strange.  You  know  the  fol 
lowers  of  this  man  claim  that 
he  was  born  on  that  night. 
My  father  knew  some  shep 
herds  who  told  a  strange  story 
.  .  .  however. 

' '  For  the  children  of  our 
village  —  that  is  to  say,  my 
little  cousin  Joanna,  my 
brother  Simon,  the  potter's 
little  son,  Septimus,  a  lad 
named  Joseph,  whose  father 
was  the  olive  presser  of  the 

[9] 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

district,  and  myself — the 
village  bleach-green  was  the 
playground. 

"This  bleach-green  was  a 
great  meadow  by  the  brook, 
on  the  other  side  my  father's 
sheepfolds.  It  belonged  to 
the  fuller  of  the  village .  After 
weaving,  the  women  used  to 
bring  here  their  webs  of  cloth 
to  be  whitened.  Many  a  time 
I  have  seen  the  great  squares 
and  lengths  of  cloth  covering 
the  meadow,  till  you  would 
have  said  the  snow  had  fallen. 

"  It  was  like  that  on  a  holi 
day,  when  the  five  of  us  chil 
dren  were  at  our  play  along 
the  banks  of  the  little  brook. 


ro 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

Across  the  brook  was  the  road 
that  led  to  the  city,  and  back 
of  us  the  bleach-green  was 
one  shimmer  of  white,  great 
spreads  and  drifts  of  white 
cloth,  billowing  and  rippling 
like  shallow  pools  of  milk,  as 
the  breeze  stirred  under  them. 
They  were  weighted  down  at 
the  corners  with  huge,  round 
stones.  It  was  a  pretty  sight. 
I  have  never  forgotten  that 
bleach-green. 

'  *  I  remember  that  day  we 
had  found  a  bank  of  clay,  and 
the  potter's  son,  Septimus, 
showed  us  how  to  model  the 
stuff  into  pots  and  drinking- 
vessels,  and  afterwards  even 


THE    JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

into  the  form  of  animals:  dogs, 
fishes,  and  the  lame  cow  that 
belonged  to  the  widow  at  the 
end  of  the  village.  Simon 
made  a  wonderful  beast,  that 
he  assured  us  was  a  lion,  with 
twigs  for  legs,  while  I  and 
Septimus  patted  and  pinched 
our  lump  of  clay  to  look  like 
the  great  he-pig  that  had  eaten 
a  litter  of  puppies  the  week 
past  —  a  horror  that  was  yet 
the  talk  of  all  the  village. 

6 '  Joanna  —  she  was  young 
er  than  all  the  rest  of  us — was 
fashioninglittlebirds,  clumsy, 
dauby  little  lumps  of  wet  clay 
without  much  form .  She  was 
very  proud  of  them,  and  set 

[12] 


THE    JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

them  in  a  row  upon  a  stick, 
and  called  for  us  to  look  at 
them .  As  boys  will ,  we  made 
fun  of  her  and  her  little, 
clumsy  clay  birds,  because 
she  was  a  girl,  and  Simon,  my 
brother,  said : 

"'Hoh,  those  aren't  like 
birds  at  all.  More  like  bull 
frogs.  I'll  show  you/ 

' '  He  and  the  rest  of  us  took 
to  making  all  manner  of  birds 
—  pigeons,  hawks,  chickens, 
and  the  like.  Septimus,  the 
potter's  son,  executed  a  veri 
table  masterpiece,  a  sort  of 
peacock  with  tail  spread  which 
was  very  like,  and  which  he 
swore  he  would  take  to  his 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

father's  kiln  to  have  baked. 
We  all  exclaimed  over  this 
marvel,  and  gathered  about 
Septimus,  praising  him  and 
his  handiwork,  and  poor  little 
Joanna  and  her  foolish  dauby 
lumps  were  forgotten.  Then, 
of  course,  we  all  made  pea 
cocks,  and  set  them  in  a  row, 
and  compared  them  with  each 
other's.  Joanna  sat  apart 
looking  at  us  through  her 
tears,  and  trying  to  pretend 
that  she  did  not  care  for  clay 
peacocks,  that  the  ridicule  of 
a  handful  of  empty-headed 
boys  did  not  hurt  her,  and 
that  her  stupid  little  birds 
were  quite  as  brave  as  ours. 


THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 


Then  she  said,  by  and  by, 
timid-like  and  half  to  herself, 
*  I  think  my  birds  are  pretty, 
too.' 

"'Hoh,'  says  Septimus, 
'look  at  Joanna's  bullfrogs! 
Hoh  I  You  are  only  a  girl. 
What  do  you  know?  You 
don't  know  anything.  I  think 
you  had  better  go  home.  We 
don't  like  to  play  with  girls.' 

'  *  She  was  too  brave  to  let 
us  see  her  cry,  but  she  got 
up,  and  was  just  about  going 
home  across  the  bleach-green 
—  in  the  green  aisles  between 
the  webs  of  cloth  —  when 
Simon  said  to  me  and  to  the 
others : 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

"'Look,  quick,  Mervius, 
here  comes  that  man  that 
father  spoke  about,  the  car 
penter's  son  who  has  made 
such  a  stir.'  And  he  pointed 
across  the  brook,  down  the 
road  that  runs  from  the  city 
over  towards  the  lake,  the 
same  lake  where  you  say  this 
Peter  used  to  fish.  Joanna 
stopped  and  looked  where  he 
pointed;  so  did  we  all.  I 
saw  the  man,  the  carpenter's 
son,  whom  Simon  meant,  and 
knew  at  once  that  it  was  he." 

Old  Jerome  interrupted : 
"You  had  never  seen  him 
before.  How  did  you  know 
it  was  he  ?  " 

[16] 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 


Mervius  shook  his  head. 
"It  was  he.  How  could  / 
tell?  I  don't  know.  I  knew 
it  was  he." 

-What  did  he  look  like?" 
asked  Jerome,  interested. 

Mervius  paused.  There 
was  a  silence.  Jerome's  crow 
looked  at  the  bright  coals  of 
the  fire,  his  head  on  one  side. 

"  Not  at  all  extraordinary," 
said  Mervius  at  length.  * '  His 
face  was  that  of  a  peasant,  sun- 
browned,  touched,  perhaps, 
with  a  certain  calmness .  That 
was  all.  A  face  that  was 
neither  sad  nor  glad,  calm 
merely,  and  not  unusually  or 
especially  pleasing.  He  was 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

dressed  as  you  and  I  are  now 
—  as  a  peasant  —  and  his 
hands  were  those  of  a  worker. 
Only  his  head  was  bare." 
"  Did  he  wear  his  beard?" 
6 'No,  that  was  afterward. 
He  was  younger  when  I  saw 
him,  about  twenty-one  may 
be,  and  his  face  was  smooth. 
There  was  nothing  extraor 
dinary  about  the  man." 

4 'Yet  you  knew  it  was  he." 
"Yes,"  admitted  Mervius, 
nodding  his  head.      "Yes,  I 
knew  it  was  he.     He  came  up 
slowly  along  the  road  near  the 
brook  where  we  children  were 
sitting.      He  walked  as  any 
traveller    along    those    roads 
Lzr— 

[18] 


THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 


might,  not  thoughtful  nor 
abstracted,  but  minding  his 
steps  and  looking  here  and 
there  about  the  country.  The 
prettier  things,  I  noted, 
seemed  to  attract  him,  and  I 
particularly  remember  his 
stopping  to  look  at  a  cherry- 
tree  in  full  bloom  and  smelling 
at  its  blossoms.  Once,  too, 
he  stopped  and  thrust  out  of 
the  way  a  twig  that  had  fallen 
across  a  little  ant  heap .  When 
he  had  come  opposite  us,  he 
noticed  us  all  standing  there 
and  looking  at  him  quietly 
from  across  the  brook,  and  he 
came  down  and  stood  on  the 
other  bank  and  asked  us  for 


p.,,"-v  j-v-n 

THE   JOYOUS   MIRACLE 

a  drink.  There  was  a  cup  in 
an  old  bucket  not  far  away 
that  was  kept  there  for  those 
who  worked  on  the  bleach- 
green.  I  ran  to  fetch  it,  and 
when  I  had  come  back  he, 
the  carpenter's  son,  had 
crossed  the  brook,  and  was 
sitting  on  the  bank,  and  all  the 
children  were  about  him .  He 
had  little  Joanna  on  his  knee, 
and  she  had  forgotten  to  cry. 
He  drank  out  of  the  cup  I 
gave  him,  and  fell  to  asking 
us  about  what  we  had  been 
doing.  Then  we  all  cried  out 
together,  and  showed  him  our 
famous  array  of  clay  pea 
cocks." 

[30] 


THE    JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

'  *  And  you  were  that  familiar 
with  him?"  said  old  Jerome. 

6 '  He  seemed  like  another 
child  to  us,"  answered  Mer- 
vius.  "We  were  all  about 
him,  on  his  shoulders,  on  his 
knees,  in  his  arms,  and  Joanna 
in  his  lap  —  she  had  forgotten 
to  cry. 

"  'See,  see  my  birds,'  she 
said.  I  tell  you  she  had  her 
arms  around  his  neck.  *  See, 
they  said  they  were  not  pretty. 
They  are  pretty,  aren't  they, 
quite  as  pretty  as  theirs?' 

"'Prettier,  prettier,'  he 
said.  'Looknow.'  Hesetour 
little  clay  birds  before  him  in 
a  row.  First  mine,  then 

[SI] 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

Simon's,  then  those  of  Joseph 
and  of  Septimus,  then  one  of 
little  Joanna's  shapeless  little 
lumps.  He  looked  at  them, 
and  at  last  touched  the  one 
,  Joanna  had  made  with  his 
finger-tip,  then —  Did  you 
ever  see,  when  cornis  popping, 
how  the  grain  swells,  swells, 
swells,  then  bursts  forth  into 
whiteness?  So  it  was  then. 
No  sooner  had  that  little  bird 
of  Joanna,  that  clod  of  dust, 
that  poor  bit  of  common  clay, 
felt  the  touch  of  his  finger  than 
it  awakened  into  life  and  be 
came  a  live  bird — and  white, 
white  as  the  sunshine,  a  beau 
tiful  little  white  bird  that  flew 


THE    JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

upward  on  the  instant,  with 
a  tiny,  glad  note  of  song. 
We  children  shouted  aloud, 
and  Joanna  danced  and 
clapped  her  hands.  And  then 
it  was  that  the  carpenter's 
son  smiled.  He  looked  at  her 
as  she  looked  up  at  that  soar 
ing  white  bird,  and  smiled, 
smiled  just  once,  and  then  fell 
calm  again. 

"He  rose  to  go ,  but  we  hung 
about  him  and  clamored  for 
him  to  stay. 

66 '  No, 'he  said,  as  he  kissed 
us  all,  '  I  must  go,  go  up  to  the 
city.'  He  crossed  the  brook, 
and  looked  back  at  us. 

*  * '  Can't  we  go  with  you  ? ' 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

we  cried  to  him.     He  shook 
his  head. 

"  *  Where  I  am  going  you 
cannot  go.  But/  he  added, 
*  I  am  going  to  make  a  place 
for  just  such  as  you.' 

66  'And  you'll  come  again? 
we  cried. 

"'Yes,  yes,  I  shall  come 
again.' 

66  Then  he  went  away, 
though  often  looking  back 
and  waving  his  hand  at  us. 
What  we  said  after  he  had 
gone  I  don't  know.  How  we 
felt  I  cannot  express.  Long 
time  and  in  silence  we  stood 
there  watching,  until  his 
figure  vanished  around  a  bend 

l\       '        ::J_         . „_— -  .O--      :      i      , 

[•*] 


THE  JOYOUS   MIRACLE 

in  the  road.  Then  we  turned 
and  went  home  across  the 
bleach-green,  through  the 
green  aisles  between  the  webs 
of  white  cloth.  We  never 
told  what  had  happened. 
That  was  just  for  ourselves 
alone.  The  same  evening 
we  heard  of  a  great  wonder 
that  had  been  worked  at  a 
marriage  in  a  town  near  by, 
water  turned  to  wine,  and  a 
little  later  another,  a  man 
blind  from  his  birth  sud 
denly  made  to  see.  What 
did  we  care?  He  had  not 
smiled  upon  those  others, 
those  people  at  the  mar 
riage,  that  crowd  in  the 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 


market-place.     What  did  we 

?5? 

Mervius  stopped,  and 
slipped  his  feet  back  into  his 
sabots,  and  rose.  He  took 
the  letter  from  Jerome,  and 
put  it  in  the  pocket  of  his 
blouse. 

* '  And  you  saw  that  ?  " 

Mervius  nodded,  but  old 
Jerome  shook  his  head  in  the 
manner  of  one  who  is  not 
willing  to  be  convinced. 

"He  was  a  dreamer  with 
unspeakable  pretensions. 
Why,  his  people  were  labor 
ing  folk  in  one  of  the  villages 
beyond  the  lake.  His  father 

[261 


THE   JOYOUS    MIRACLE 

was  a  carpenter  and  built  my 
corn-bin.  The  son  was  a  fa 
natic.  His  wits  were  turned." 

"But  this  thing  I  saw," 
said  Mervius  at  the  door.  "  I 
saw  it,  who  am  speaking  to 
you." 

Jerome  put  his  chin  in  the 
air. 

"...  A  dreamer  .  .  . 
We  were  well  rid  of  him. 
...  But  I  was  sorry  when 
Peter  went  away  .  .  .  Mon 
days  and  Wednesdays  he 
came,  and  his  fish  were  always 
fresh." 


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